Without a Word
by Links6
Summary: Dean's lost his voice and is still sick, but he's still determined to go on the latest hunt. Sam is trying to keep him safe and healthy... which is not always easy, especially with a Winchester.Post episode 1x15.  sick!laryngitis!Dean  caring!worried!Sam
1. Without a Word

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its related characters or themes.

AN1: This little plot bunny came to me while I had my own bout of Laryngitis this week – which sucked. BUT, I had to try it out!

AN2: This takes place a little while after 1x15 'The Benders'

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**Without a Word**

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Dean's been crabby since Tuesday. It's Saturday now and he's completely lost his voice. The constant coughing and hacking from his bout of bronchitis left his voice raw and raspy at first. It then escalated, as all things Dean-related usually do, to the squeaky and whispery voice. That lost its appeal around Thursday and, by law of Winchester, meant his voice had to get lost too.

Right now he's got one arms flailing angrily and glaring at his brother.

Sam, who had used a bacon and cheese burger as an excuse for consolation, looked up from his laptop, finally noticing Dean's attempt to catch his attention, "Huh, yeah?"

A frown and he gestures shaking. He motioned to his greasy burger and fries as if it were an explanation in itself. _Can you not SEE what the problem is?_

"I asked for extra salt and ketchup, don't pin this on me," Sam snapped.

A rudimentary pout followed Sam's explanation.

"I know, I know... sorry. I'll stock up when I go for dinner," Sam relented after a while. "You find anything yet?"

A shake of the head and his own croak of a sigh came as a reply. _No, thanks, unless you can whip me up a handy-dandy morphine IV._

Sam scratched his head for a moment, "Maybe we've been looking in the wrong place?" he said, turning his laptop enough so Dean could see, "Looks like we've got a local website for the weird."

The screen had a huge purple pentagram glowing, some links to spells and summoning rituals, all of it.

The next morning Sam's up and dressed while Dean's snoring like a chainsaw. Sam took a seat on his own bed, staring at his brother. Considering Sam already finished cleaning the guns, packing the bags, taking a shower... Dean must be _really _tired to have _not _woken up yet. Sam prodded the side of Dean's bed with his foot, "Dean, wake up."

A squeak came from Dean's bed, followed by Dean's head poking out of the blanket fort. He looked over for a moment before jumping up.

"Wait-whao... Dude, I just wanted to know if I can get you anything." Sam quickly stated, standing up too.

Either Dean was decidedly ignoring his brother, or he was _really _determined to go along. He's tugging on jeans and a tee, his sneakers are slipped on in record time. And, the answer was apparent when Dean's eyebrows are waggling like he's just scored. _See? I'm ready for action!_

Dean suddenly snaps forward, a hoarse cough suddenly rips through his system. And it seemed that his bronchitis-episode hadn't completely receded yet. He coughs harshly a couple more times, clutching his chest.

"You okay?" Sam asked, not sure if jumping up and running over is a bit too extreme at the moment.

Dean held up the 'one minute' sign and rested his hands on his knees until he caught his breath. _One second, dude... at least until I'm sure I won't hock out my own lungs. _He finally held up a thumbs-up and looked up with a grin. _Good to go._

"You are so going to stay here." Sam snapped, grabbing his backpack from the floor.

Now, Dean's got his finger pointing to himself then at Sam, a circle in the air followed by a forwards motion. _We're both going._

"I'm just going to interview the creators of that website... nothing serious..." Sam said, his smile not as convincing as it should be.

Lost voice or not, all of Dean's other senses were fine. Including his 'lie-o-meter', and right now, it was going off like a fire alarm. It all comes from years and years of living with someone, learning their habits and give-aways.

To make his point clear, Dean jangled the Impala's keys in front of Sam before stalking out the door. _You're not going anywhere without me._

They drive in silence until they reach a stretch of uptown apartments. Manicured lawns and sprinklers. Not exactly a witch's playground.

"Katelyn Westen lives in apartment hundred and fourteen, sixth floor..." Sam looks up from their Dad's journal with a frown, "If she's really a witch... shouldn't there be some angelica or something growing here?"

Dean scanned the area before smiling to himself and walking back to Sam. His brother stood patiently by as Dean paged through the journal until he reaches the page where their father wrote down all the herbs grown for the use of the occult. He runs his finger along the list of names until he reaches '_Wormwood_'.

"Seriously?" Sam asked, and looked up. His brother points to the side of the building next to the ranking Ivy. The woody climbing plant was thriving in the shady spot, "huh... Good eye."

The older Winchester shrugged smugly and walked towards the building. He seemed fine, unless you discount his swaying walk, hunched shoulders, his occasional suppressed coughing. Oh yes. A picture of health.

Even the stairs up to the witch's apartment were a pain in the ass. Dean could feel his thighs burning and shaking from the exertion, his hands tingling and dark spots dancing in front of his eyes. He stopped on the landing at the fourth floor, flipping open his cell and checking the messages on his phone. He leaned on the wall, holding up the 'one minute' sign again.

The younger of the two took the time to check their gear, shoving the nine mil glock in the waistband of his jeans. He had the good graces to take his time to give his brother time to rest as he checked the ammo.

After a few minutes, Dean shoved himself away from the wall, elbowing Sam in the ribs.

Sam handed him a sawed-off, "Ready?"

A wink came as his reply. _You know it, Sammy._

Five minutes later and the pair of them were standing on the sixth floor. It's still pretty early, it being just past eight and all. Late fall in Denver, Colorado is kinda cool. Freezing, actually, and even at 2 centigrade below, it seemed as if the sky was only seconds away from cursing them with snow. It might be October, but the feeling of hands going numb because of the _cold_... yes. They hadn't planned on it being _this _cold so early.

"You still okay, dude?" Sam looked over to Dean, and he can't help but wonder if allowing him to come along wasn't one of the _many _things he'll regret.

Dean's got his hands withdrawn into his jacket, blowing air into the cuffs of his sleeves to help warm them up. He looked at Sam pointedly for a minute before jerking his head to the direction of the apartment. _Mind your own damn business. _

"If you don't feel okay, you should let me know now... you know what dad said about hunting when you're sick," Sam said and tugged on Dean's elbow, "We can always come back later... she's not going anywhere."

Dean frowned darkly and opened his mouth but all that came out was a squeaky whisper. And, of course, that didn't help things. He's got gesturing wildly with both his hands now. He cups his hand, motions a ripping action, punches his fist in the air and whirls it around for a moment. _I'm going to rip off you-_

Sam turns pink and frowned deeply, "It's not _my _fault your immune system's gone to hell, " and couldn't help but add a "If you actually added some salad to your four pounds of grease burgers, maybe you'll be able to fight off more than just blocked arteries."

His brother suppressed another cough and flipped him the bird. _Bitch._

"_Jerk", _followed a roll of Sammy's eyes.

They made their way down the hallway, silently checking each door for any other signs. 110, 112... They stop in front of hundred and fourteen, both crouching on either side.

A nod in unison and Sam knocks on the door, "Ms Westen, we've got reports of gas leakage in this floor... would you mind if we came in for a spot check?" he asked formally.

No reply.

Dean readies his sawed-off and stands up. He holds one hand above his head for a second. _Cover me._

Sam nods and got his safety pin and wrench to the lock. He fiddles with the lock, swearing several times as the lock springs back into place. He finally manoeuvres the lock open and pulled on the handle. He pushes the door open and Dean moves into the apartment, scans the area. Sam followed up and cleared the right.

Dean motioned to the right and headed towards the left.

The whole apartment was searched through but nothing was found. Katelyn Westen looked like a normal, twenty-six year old woman. They meet up in the kitchen.

"Place is clean... nothing out of the ordinary," Sam said with a frown, still scanning the room warily.

It isn't until Dean walked over to the fridge and checked out the contents when he noticed it. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the drawers next to the sink. He kicked the fridge closed and opened up the first drawer. Only, the drawer didn't open... instead, all four fake drawers were a cover for a single slide cabinet. He pulled it out until the rollers stopped. And there it all was. Rows and rows of herbs, dried bones, threads...

"Are you turning into Daredevil?" Sam joked, checking out the contents of the cabinet.

Dean's waggling his eyebrows again and straightened up, cringing as his back protests.

Sam sighed after a few minutes, "We'll have to come back later... "

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><p>Thanks for reading!<p>

I'm not too sure I'll complete this... I've never tried writing something like this before, so... I'll see how it goes with fave's and reviews. So, if you did like it, please let me know! I'll really appreciate it! :D


	2. Silence

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its related characters or themes.

AN1: Thanks so much for all your awesome reviews so far! I really appreciate them! Thanks to LeighAnnWallace, januarysunshine13, Moira-glc, dreamlitnight, ZeeAwesomeSauceIsAwesome, Queen Bee, CandyCakes and cold kagome! :DD You're awesome!

I love the ideas suggested too, so a super awesome huggles for the fever idea! Thanks Moira-glc!

I'm open to ideas, so let me know! :D

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**Silence**

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They stopped by the closest diner, deciding to get some lunch before going back to the motel. The diner itself was trying so hard to be modern that it mostly came off as tacky. Super-sleek aluminium _everything. _

The pair grab a booth by the window, a waiter came up to the table a few minutes later. Oh yes, the two-day old shave and messy apron was _totally _appetizing. Sam's got a twitch in his eye, but it doesn't seem like Dean even noticed the guy. They order their lunch and finally settle.

"You alright?" Sam asked, giving Dean a one-over mid scroll of his inbox messages.

Dean's got his forehead in his palm, wincing each time he tries to swallow. He holds up a thumbs-up, but even his hand's trembling.

Their lunch arrives and Dean doesn't even touch his sandwich. He's only nursing his coffee, taking small girly sips. And even _he _knows Sam with his super freaky little brother optics can see it. He takes off his jacket after a few minutes, huffing in frustration.

"You hot?" Sam asked incredulously.

After draping his leather jacket he looked back at Sam mocking an air kiss. He takes another sip of the coffee, but suddenly snaps forwards, coughing uncontrollably.

Sam, mouthful of chicken sandwich, stared at his brother for a few seconds. He stands up unsurely, "Uh... dude...?"

Dean's got his head ducked sideways, trying his best to suppress the sputtering cough.

Sam walked over to his side and slightly started clapping his brother on his back. He can't help but notice the heat radiating through Dean's shirt. _'He's got a fever too?', _he hands his coffee to his brother, "Drink this..."

After a few quick gulps and a last reverberating cough, Dean sat up.

"You look like hell... " Sam quips, chuckling in relief. "I think we should get going."

It takes them ten minutes to finally clear out, take out coffee in hand. Sam sneaks the Impala's keys from Dean's jacket as he passes Dean on the way to Metallicar.

"Can I drive?" Sam asked politely, passing the passenger side to the driver's side.

Dean sends him a warning glare. And the eyebrow quirk. _You're pushing your luck._

"Don't look at me like that, you're sick... " Sam said and started ushering Dean to the passenger seat, "That was a courtesy question... I'm driving."

The older Winchester wipes at his forehead in frustration, he clears his throat and winches again as the small action sends a flash of pain right through his system. He pats down his jacket for the keys and suddenly freezes. He looked up.

"Got 'em," Sam said and couldn't help but grin as he finally got to drive.

The entire drive back to the motel has Dean fidgeting uncomfortably in the passenger seat. And when he's not looking like he's got ants in his pants, he's glaring at Sam. _Oh, you just wait until I'm back to normal. I'm going to whoop your sorry ass._

They shove past each other to get inside the motel room.

"You should take some aspirin," Sam said, rummaging in his duffle for the tablets, "We don't need you spiking the fever when we're out tonight."

Dean doesn't even bother to answer his brother, he only toes off his boots and flips onto the bed closest to the door. _Make me, bitch._

Finally emerging out of his bag, Sam tosses the tablet-pack towards his brother.

Well... fact that Dean's reaction time was so slow that the pack hit Dean right on the nose was proof enough that he was _really sick._

The older brother snapped upright and started mouthing the first thing that popped into his mind, "WHAT THE F-"... _fudge. _It was the first time since he lost his voice that he _really _missed being able to talk. Or swear. Or yell. Or burp.

"Sorry... uh... See? You are sick?" Sam quickly tried to cover it up but ended up chuckling instead.

Dean tossed the packet back at Sam... who threw it back...

"What, are you four years-old?" Sam snapped crankily, "Stop being such a pain!"

For a moment it looked like Dean might actually consider it, that is, until he threw the packet somewhere over his shoulder with a huff.

Sam sighed heavily and walked over and picked it up. "Just take them..." he said. He shoved Dean's bed to get his brother to react.

And react Dean did, too much. He kicked Sam in the hip. And Sam ended up shoving Dean's legs off the bed. ... and a second later they couldn't figure out how in the hell they ended up wrestling on the floor.

Once Sam got Dean pinned to the floor, he narrowed his eyes, "If I can beat you this easily, think of what a witch will do?" he said, "Remember what happened in Pasadena? ... what if that happens again?"

The second hunt Sam was allowed to join on was in Pasadena, California. In the end, the witch they were hunting had cursed the youngest Winchester and after vanquishing her, the Winchesters had to high-tail it back to Missouri Mosely for a cure.

The older Winchester could still clearly remember the helpless feeling as Sam's pulse got weaker and weaker with every mile. How hard he tried to keep him awake and positive. _Don't worry, Sammy... we're almost there... and then we'll take a week off and we'll go watch a movie... yeah, any movie you want! _It was when Sam started to cough up blood when Dean's positive attitude suddenly turned pessimistic and desperate. That was the first time he can remember that he was really and truly afraid.

Dean huffed angrily but didn't struggle further. _Sneaky little brothers... psh..._

Sam stands up and pulls Dean up without a word. He walks off and returns with a glass of water and a wet towel, "Here..." he said and handed Dean the items. He picked up the fallen pain-killer container and hands it over. He doesn't stick around and decides that _now _would be the best time for a shower, aka. Leave now and save Dean some unnecessary embarrassment.

Forty minutes when Sam emerges from the shower with his sweats on, he smiled in relief when he spotted his brother. His brother's mouth was slightly open and snoring, the towel on his forehead and the glass of water half-empty.

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><p>Thanks for reading!<p>

Sorry for the short chappie, I'm kinda outta ideas at the moment... but feel free to suggest any ^-^


	3. Stillness

AN1:Contains a MINOR OC... like the usual Supernatural episodes...

AN2: Set sometime during season 1...

AN3: Thank you all so much for all your reviews and favourites! I really appreciate it! PLUS a super awesome Thank You for KrizDeanGirl, smalld1171, Rosetta Brunestud , 27jaredjensen , Zyanya, Queen Bee and elleran1969 for your reviews! They really inspire me to continue :D

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**Stillness **

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Sam wakes up to the sound of a shrill bell ringing loudly on the counter of the nightstand. He blearily opened his eye in time to catch Dean switching off his cell.

"Wha... what time is it?" Sam asked, checking his own phone for the time, "It's two in the morning..."

Dean switched on the light and sat up, he glanced over to his gear and circled two fingers in the air.

"... now? You want to hunt a witch... at two A-M in the morning... ?" Sam said incredulously and looked around him, "Wait... where'd I put my holy water?"

A solo flipped finger was his reply. _Very funny._

Fifteen minutes later the pair were finishing up the last checks to before they leave. "Alright... so... witch or not... we can't just blast her to bits... we need to find out if it really IS her who's hexing everyone..." Sam said, zipping up his jeans.

Dean dismissively waved his hand and rubbed his nose with the other, _I know I know... let's just get this done with._

"You know... it's a good thing dad taught us tactical hand signs when we were kids... 'cause I wouldn't have been able to understand you half the time..." Sam grumbled and grabbed his gear.

They load their gear into the impala and Sam's got the privilege-that-can-be-revoked-at-any-moment to drive to the "skeevy witch's apartment".

The painkillers seemed to be working though and the 'freak out' lines on Dean's face weren't as furrowed as before. Then again, considering their usual encounters, this was a relatively stress-free situation.

Dean indicated to the apartment, did two small waves with his wrist, made small circle with his hand before tapping his watch and finishing off by making two 'o's with his hand. _We move out, get rid of the friggen witch and we finish this in twenty minutes._

Sam grinned cheekily and pulled up to the curb of the apartment block. "I think you should sit this one out..." he said, "I could always call dad... ".

His brother merely narrowed his eyes before yanking open the door. And, just to let Sam knew how much he _appreciated _his opinion, he burped heartily in Sam's direction... but, his voice being all 'laryngity' and all that... it came out as a squeak –not too dissimilar from one you'd find in a squeaky toy. So, with a huff –and a background sound of Sam's giggling- Dean got out and shut the passenger door. Oh how he _loathed _this.

He popped the trunk of the Impala and retrieved his sawed-off and the protection amulet his dad left him before the man left on his latest outing. Dean also got another amulet for Sam and his brother's favourite bear-claw knife.

Sam shut the driver's door and walked around, "Sorry... " he muttered with a sheepish smile and took the amulet and knife from his brother, "Thanks".

They muffled up the locking the trunk before heading out.

They slowly headed up to the apartment, Sam "taking his sweet time to check his gear every few minutes" as they walked.

On the third stop, Sam glances worriedly as Dean's breathing started to become heavier by the minute. As far as Sam was concerned, he was sure his brother wouldn't go along on a hunt if it meant he was endangering Sam... but Sam was also _well _aware that Dean's got pride on his side. And that wasn't always such a good side to have.

Dean punched his fist in the air, pulling his fist towards him as if he's honking the horn on a truck. _Move it, slow-ass. _

"... Right..." Sam sighed and headed up the last few steps. It was obvious Dean wasn't gauging his own health accurately when one of his senses was messed up.

They checked the hall for witnesses before splitting up and crouching either sides of the door.

Dean knocked on the door, shuffling back until he's ready to aim at whoever opens the door. And it didn't take long...

A young woman opened the door, looking around for a few seconds before spotting Dean crouched by the door, "HOLY SHI-" and even before she could finish her sentence, Dean's covered her mouth and was dragging her into her apartment. But, before he could even properly get a hold on her, she quickly snapped him around and held a small thumb length blade to his neck, "Come on, _try. It!_" she snapped angrily, digging the blade into the hunter's neck.

"W-wait! Don't!" Sam yelled, lifting both hands in his air.

She looked at the bar of them, noticing the necklaces on their necks, "... Hunters?" she asked, checking to see if Dean had the same necklace on. Unfortunately, he took it as an incentive to quickly manoeuvre out of her grip and hold her at gunpoint.

Sam quickly shut the door and turned to face the young woman, "We're not here to hurt you..." he said calmly, earning a glare from her. "But, we have a few questions for you..."

"You call _this _questioning?" she growled, looking pointedly at the shotgun Dean was pointing at her. She didn't seemed to be deterred by that at all... and that was slightly unnerving for both boys.

"We need to talk to you..." Sam repeated calmly.

She nodded slowly.

Dean narrowed his eyes before lowering his shotgun. He's motioning wildly with his one hand before rubbing his hand vigorously on his jeans.

"Is he normally like this?" she asked after a few seconds with a frown.

"... Laryngitis..." Sam said and rubbed the back of his neck. Dean just shrugged with his pick-up-line-gone-wrong smile on his face.

"Oooohhh... ouch... sorry, dude," she said and pointed to his neck, "You okay?"

Dean smiled with a wink. _I'm fine, sweetheart._ And THAT seduction was cut short by his abrupt coughing.

Sam chuckled at his brother before turning back to the suspected witch, "Well... we've found your website... ". He lightly claps Dean on the back for a few times before refocusing his attention.

"_Right_..." she said, scratching absently behind her head before smiling sheepishly, "Yea... remnants of my youth unfortunately... yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm still young, I know..."

It takes a while before Dean settles down from his coughing bout and he and Sam finally look to each other, "Uhh... look, there has been deaths and -"

The young woman frowned and turned on her heel. She walked off to her study and motioned for them to follow her before going in, "You've been watching that too? It's people like this who give Wiccans a bad name..." she snapped and dug around through some of the papers on her desk before emerging with a file, "It started like four months ago..."

"You're a wiccan?" Sam asked incredulously. It was strange since she didn't look like any kind of Wiccan he'd ever met. He was kind of expecting a flower-bearing cosmic... orientated person... but she looked like an instructor at the local gym or something.

"Sort of... only when I feel like it... " she said and smiled at the medals and photographs on the side table in her study, "And that's not too often anymore...".

Sam looked over to the table and quirked an eyebrow, "Hey, you're an instructor for the army?" he asked. Both brothers walked closer to the table and examined the contents. A couple of bronze, silver and golden medals were riddled between photographs of her at a range and group shots of her standing next to a couple of army cadets.

"No... I'm an instructor at the Firing Range at the club... " she said proudly and pointed to the picture Dean held. In the picture, she was standing next to three others, all holding their rifles against their shoulders, "That's my baby... a Browning Machine gun...fifty calibre..."

Dean smirked devilishly at her but she quickly glared at him,"... I prefer rifles over shotguns...". And to that, she received a pout.

"Now... ", Dean and Sam stared astounded as the woman walked over to the file again and spread out the newspaper clips and other notes. "I've been trying to find some kind of connection... but other than four men who visited the same bloody bar on weekends... nada," she explained and opened a map.

"... Are you...a... ?" Sam started, studying the contents of the folder.

"Nah... tried it... but it's not for me... I'm more of a part-time hunter..." she said and grinned sheepishly, "And by part-time, I mean, once or twice in a year ... gig..."

Dean paged through the contents for a few minutes before scratching his head. He looked at Sam and shrugged. _Same as we got, bro. Nothing new. _He paused at one page before turning back a few. He grabbed the page and held it up, pointing to one of the highlighted lines. He involuntarily yawned, but quickly stifled it as quickly as he could. But he _knew _Sam noticed it.

"I know... I also thought it could be voodoo... hoodoo... pagan... demon possession ... " she flipped over all the pages until the very end and spread open the file, "But, it looks more like some kind of demon possession... no gris-gris bags or anything like that...".

Dean smirked and elbowed Sam in the ribs. _Chick's got skills._ He absently wipes at his forehead, practically feeling the painkillers working out of his system.

"Well... you can take these... " she hands them several papers and grinned afterwards, "and get going..."

"But... " Sam started, but she held up her hand to silence him.

"Look... hunting is great and all... but I'm not about to hunt this thing... whatever it is... " she said and checked over both of them, "Besides, look like you've been at this since you were born..."

A nod from Dean was all it took for Sam to agree, "... Thank you for your time... Miss...?"

"Miss I'm-not-interested ... " she said with a smile and ushered them out the door, "Have fun with your hunt... and... Dean?"

The older Winchester had been pinching the bridge of his nose until now, but he quickly regained his composure. He smiled for a moment, pretty sure he's about to get lucky. _Yea?_

"Take some Tylenol and Cough meds... you look like hell..." she said and grinned as she shut the door.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading! Please drop me a review or fave if you liked it!<em>


	4. Calm

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its related characters or themes.

AN1: This takes place a little while after 1x15 'The Benders'

_AN2: Thank you all so much for being so patient for this chapter! Sorry it took so long for me to update, exams are... long, unfortunately LOL xD_

_AN3: A super shoutout to everyone who review Without a Word so far! Thank you all so much for all your fav's, alerts and reviews! It's been such a fantastic response, WAAAYYY better than what I'd expected! A Special Thanks to smalld1171 , Rosetta Brunestud, LeighAnnWallace, twiandsuperfan , Webster and Storystuff for your reviews on the third chappie :DD I truly appreciate it! Thank you so much! **You guys rock!**_

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_**Calm**_

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Calm... one thing Sam was pretty sure that Dean had lost that along with his first epidermal layer about forty minutes ago.

"You alright in there, man?" Sam yelled through the bathroom door, subtly testing the doorknob.

Of course, no reply came, but the sigh he heard followed by the kick to the door was the best answer he got. _ I'm fine, Sasquatch. _The steam still escaping through the small gap between the motel floor and bathroom door was enough to tell Sam _exactly _how hot the shower was.

And, unfortunately, Sam knows that Dean's shower temperature tends to be directly proportional to his temper... and right now, Sam could tell that Dean was pis- ... _crabby._

Unfortunately, the fact that Sam had walked into the motel room just when Dean started coughing up a storm in the bathroom had Sam reverting to his basic mother-hen nature. Yep, their little escapade at three in the morning in the freezing cold of Colorado had Dean relapsing.

"You better not pass out in there," Sam snapped angrily, "... Look, I'm going to break this door down if you don't open this door and doors don't fix themselves, you know..."

Dean suddenly yanked the door open and gave Sam the hairy-eyeball. _Oh yeah? Well guess what? Shiners don't disappear overnight either, you know? _

One glance at Dean's dew-eyed stare, splotchy red cheeks and the black-rimmed eyes... and Sam was pretty sure Dean's sporting a good one-hundred fever. But, just like any Winchester, he knows the best way to tackle the problem. "I think the diner'll open in about ten minutes... " Sam says, checking the time on his cell, "I'll go get us some coffee and breakfast, 'kay?"

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Avoidance aka. The Winchester-way. _If you ignore something long enough and it'll disappear._

_._

And about thirty-minutes later when Sam returns with two Smith-diner specials of bacon, eggs, hash-browns and two 'bottomless' coffees. Only, the 'bottomless'-part only applied to eat-in orders... oh the irony that the price still stays the same... Dean's asleep on the bed closest to the bathroom in one of the long-legged black sweatpants he snatched from Sam's duffle and one of their dad's old oversized grey tees. The one Dean usually wears when he's feeling sick.

Sam locks the door and sets down their breakfast on the table next to the TV. He walks over to Dean, trying to decide which is better. Leave him to sleep or wake him up and gets some chow. But, when Sam spots the aspirin and cough syrup bottle next to Dean's bedside table and it's painfully obvious that Dean had taken the meds before dozing off. _See? I AM taking care of myself, dammit!_

Sam leaves Dean to sleep and decides to dig into his chow before turning-in.

The medicine takes its sweet time to kick in though, and Dean sputters himself awake every few minutes every time he coughs in his sleep. But, for the most part, the aspirin seems to be kicking-in since Dean's grouchy-lines were seemingly all the more _less _permanent the longer the morning stretched on and by seven, he seemed to be sleeping soundly.

It's up to Sam to finally pack up and check the lines and sigils. It takes him a good few minutes to set up the runs that cover most of the protection signs they'd probably need... but he browses over the research to just double-check. Witches and Hoodoo wasn't something to trifle with and overlooking details just to save time never saved anybody.

Dean sniffles and suddenly squeaks as he starts to snigger in his sleep and wriggles himself deeper into his duvet.

"_I do not want to know what you're dreaming about..." _Sam mutters with an awkward smile and finally toes off his shoes. He tosses his jacket on the chair next to his bed and yawns.

The actually time he finally got to sleep stopped bothering him long ago, since being a hunter meant you'd take what sleep you can get. And sometimes, that meant taking a five-minute doze against a headstone while their dad finished up covering-up the grave of the spirit they were hunting after a quick salt-and-burn ... or a three-hour nap when Bobby decides to tune-up the Impala when they pass through South Dakota.

He slides under the covers and sigh. He sets his alarm for four hours, figuring he'd try and dig up some more dirt to try and find this damn creature... whatever it is they're supposed to be hunting.

It doesn't take long for him to drift off into an idle sleep. Still and quiet –which was strange for motels in general- and it's only the bass of some music playing a few doors down that disturbs the peace. It doesn't even dent Sam's usual acceptance of noise and it barely registers as a distraction as the brothers finally get to sleep.

.

The quiet rattle of the AC keeps the room at a comfortably warm temperature, not cold as it was intended to do. But in Colorado, it's so damned cold in autumn, even an AC's coldest temperatures end up acting more like a heater than anything else.

The pull of sleep had them both down for a good hour before Dean suddenly snaps upright, screaming and blindly slashed his blade in front of him.

Sam grips his blankets, white-knuckled, freaked and stares at the wide-eyed Dean.

Dean's frozen on the spot though, panting heavily as he grips his blade tighter. He swallows with a cringe and finally coughs harshly, dropping the blade as he doubles over.

_A nightmare. _Sam realises, jumping to his feet and jogging to the bathroom to get Dean a glass of water. When Sam returns to the room, Dean's stashed his blade back under his pillow and seems to be having trouble catching his breath. "Here," Sam says, handing his brother the glass of water.

A stiff nod came as a reply. _Thanks, dude. _He downs the entire glass before taking another gasping breath.

"Want another one?" Sam asks, automatically taking the glass from his brother.

Dean sighs and drops his head before nodding. _Yeah... _

Sam takes his time to fill the glass and check himself out in the mirror before heading back, giving his brother enough time to get himself together and 'act himself again'. It doesn't take long before Sam hears Dean knock on the bedside table to signal for Sam to '_hurry the hell up with my damn water, bitch!_'

... and Sam gladly walks over.

"I got us some chow if you're up to it?" Sam suggests with a tired smile.

Dean downs the second glass, wincing on the last gulp before shaking his head. _I'm seriously not going to attempt that just yet... _and Dean's not too tired to realise that Sam's subtly measuring his heartbeat when his little brother takes his water glass with two hands, Sasquatch's one hand on the glass and the other hand on Dean's wrist. But, Dean decides not to bitch about it _this time _and lets it slide.

"I've set my alarm for eleven... if Katelyn isn't the witch who's bewitching up the town, then the real witch is still out there... if it _is _a witch..." Sam mutters as he walks off to fill the glass one more time. He pauses by the door when Dean tosses a used tissue at him.

Dean lifts up one hand, he knocks on the bedside table, and point to himself then points to his watch and holds his first and fourth finger together. _Wake me up in four hours, dude. _

Sam nodded absentmindedly and headed off into the bathroom. Dean finally sits back against the headboard. He yawns and rubs his eyes hard with his knuckles. Sam heads back to Dean's bedside table and sets down the glass, "Don't drink all of this in one go this time... you're going to make yourself sick," Sam reminds Dean with the accusatory I-know-what-you-were-going-to-do-so-don't-do-it eyebrow quirk.

A flipped bird was Dean's reply. _Love you too, bitch._

"Very funny, Mr. Squeaky... " Sam grinned cheekily as Dean suddenly flushed beet-red in embarrassment, "Can I get you anything else? Maybe some _Armor__ All _to get rid of that squeak of yours?"

And Sam proved just how not-out-of-practice he's been since he's been off to Stanford when he dodged Dean's oncoming flying-pillow attack.

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><p><em><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>_

_Please drop me a review or pm if you liked it :)_


	5. Composed

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its related characters or themes.

AN1: This takes place a little while after 1x15 'The Benders'

AN2_: A big shout-out to_ smalld1171 and PrettyGirlyFan _for their reviews on Chapter 4 :) btw, I still can't believe it took me over a month to update! LOL! _

_I've really appreciate all everybody's fantastic reviews, story alerts and favourites! They've really inspired me to get this chapter out faster! W00t! You all rock!_

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><p><em>.<em>

_._

_**Composed**_

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_._

_**.**_

"Dean... Dean!"

The older Winchester's eyes fly open as he jerks awake. He blinks three times before finally focusing on Sam.

"You were having another nightmare..." Sam says with a tired sigh as he backtracks to the lamp on the bedside table. The light blankets the room in an orange glow, "You okay?"

Dean doesn't even bother sitting up this time, he just rolls over to face Sam. It almost looks like he starts to shake his head, but he ends up nodding instead. _Sure._

Sam drags his hand over his face and rests his chin on his hand, "... I suppose a doctor's out the question?" he says and rubs his head absently.

When Sam doesn't stop, Dean prods Sam's knee with a concerned frown. _You okay there, chief?_

A curt nod came as a reply, but Sam's got both hands over his face now, groaning. "Sorry... I just..." and that's all Sam manages to say before falling off the bed, grabbing his hair.

In a second Dean's by his side, palpating Sam's forehead and neck to check for fever. He grabs his water-glass on the nightstand and reaches blindly for the Kleenex under his bed. He dowses the Kleenex and slops it on the back of Sam's neck and starts rubbing circles on Sam's back.

Sam takes in a deep breath, exhaling with a shudder, "I-I'm okay... " he manages to grunt before suddenly sitting still.

Silence stretches a good few minutes, and Dean decided to retreat to the bathroom for a few minutes to give Sam some space. The coughing becomes rattling by the time he finally manages to fill a glass full of water and gulps it down.

The knock on the door tells Dean that Sam's migraine attack seemed to have died down. "D-dean... are... you okay i-in there?" Sam grunts and impatiently knocks again.

Dean manages to grunt, and knocks at his chest a few times before opening the door.

"I'm alright..." Sam said with huff, but he's still got his hand covering his eyes and his smile seems to be straining.

Even with a snap-crackle-and-popping chest; cheese-grating sore throat and a constantly sore neck, Dean's big brother instincts never seemed to have died down, and he's heading to the First Aid kit before Sam even thinks to ask. He scrambles around for the aspirin and digs out the ice-pack from behind his dirty tee-shirts. He cracks the ice-pack and shakes it, feeling the icy cool flow as the chemicals mix.

"D-deaannn... ?" Sam murmurs, blindly shuffling back to his bed.

Dean meets Sam before the younger Winchester reaches his bed, helping him to sit down. He swaps the improvised ice-pack for the real one, patting it down until it's moulded around the back of Sam's head. When Sam sighs with a smile, Dean knows it's working.

"I just... had... " Sam starts, but winces when Dean manages to prod a particularly sensitive spot on the back of his neck.

"_Ssshhhrrryyy..."_ Dean manages to grumble, trying to clear his throat as even the soft mumble felt like razors cutting at his throat.

"Uugghhh... I just... had another..." Sam starts again, rubbing at his forehead and groaning, "It's... ". Sam heads over to the table next to the TV and grabs their dad's journal. He pages through a few times before pausing at a particular page, "_This_... "

Dean takes the journal and scans over the page and Sam can practically read Dean's mind just by his expression. _What the hell is this supposed to be? _He points to the first sentence under the description and shakes his head with a huff. _These aren't exactly Jack the Ripper spin-offs._

"Kobalts... they're usually good spirits and lucky charms... but when neglected or insulted..." Sam points to the picture on the next page.

Dean's checks out the picture before grimacing, 'They _ate _the guy?' he mouthed and swallowed with a wince.

"I think we should get some sleep... " Sam mutters, sighing as he takes the aspirin packet from Dean, "I'll finish up the research later on...". He pops out two aspirins and swallows them dry. "Thanks..."

Two pats on Sam's neck and Dean's meandering over to his own bed again. _No problem, dude. _He shuffles back into his bed and pounds his chest a couple more times when he starts coughing again. Dean nabs the cough syrup from the bedside table and downs a mouthful. _Ahh, the great taste of bicarbonate of soda and menthol. Yummy. _

The younger Winchester yawns and throws his duvet back over himself, "I'll check out the lore later on..." he checks his cell and sighs irritably, "I'll reset my alarm for about three... "

Dean smiles tiredly and rubs at his eyes. He yawns as well.

"You just had to ask..." Sam snaps half-heartedly, finally setting the alarm for four.

It's the first time in about a week that Dean's getting some real shut-eye and loving it. A soft feathery lull of nothingness that finally starts to dull out the nightmares and the searing pain in his throat and chest. Dean knows it's still those damned hillbilly's from hell who're causing him all these nightmares, they single-handedly managed to cripple the little faith Dean's ever had in the human-race.

But, right now, right at this moment, that's all long gone. Things were settling down between him and Sam, they had a lead and there was a breakfast meal with his name on it.

His stomach suddenly grumbles and decides _for _him that he wasn't about to take his naptime just yet. He softly sits up and wriggles out from the covers and heads over to the breakfast Sam had bought for them about three hours ago. He grabs the bag and heads back as quickly as he could and dives back under the warm covers.

The smell is heavenly, and even though the meal is on the cool side, it looks fantabulous nonetheless. He takes a whiff and sighs contently. _Thank yooouuuu, Sam! _He dives into the bacon and eggs, loving the crunchy-ness of the bacon and the slight softness of the eggs. It's been a couple of days since he's been able to enjoy a _real _meal... instead of just coffee.

"_Arrnnnt you gonna sleep?_" Sam slurs, already half-asleep.

Dean smiles, his egg-and-bacon mash peeking through. _Nah, I'm okay. You go ahead._

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><p><em>.<em>

_._

_**Thanks for reading!**_

Please drop me a pm or review if you liked it! :D


	6. Unruffled

_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its related characters or themes._

_._

AN1: This takes place a little while after 1x15 'The Benders'

AN2_:_ A big shout-out to Rosetta Brunestud and smalld1171 for their reviews on Chapter 5 :) I've really appreciate everybody's fantabulicious (is that even a word? :D ) reviews, story alerts and favourites! They've really inspired me to get this chapter out faster and make it longer! W00t!

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><p><em>.<em>

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**Unruffled**

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"Phhhxxxxttzzz!"

Dean's eyes snap open. He reaches over and snatches his phone off the bedside table and flashes it over to Sam's direction.

"_Mhhhmmmm... what...?_" Sam –who's slightly blinded by the LCD screen's brightness- mutters agitatedly, throwing the comforter over his head. But, even the comforter doesn't muffle out Sam's cough completely.

"AaHHgg YYOOOUU okHAY?" Dean's voice comes out awkwardly –not to mention hoarse- and he clears his throat.

Sam gives a short 'Mmm-hhmmm' and flips over.

After checking the time, Dean sits up and rubs his eyes. _Friggen 3.52 pm. _He rolls his shoulders, cringing as his joints pop. He shuffles out of bed, grabbing the empty breakfast wrappers and tossing them in the wastebasket as he shuffles by.

After taking a leak, he goes to wash his face again. He stifles his yawn and dries his face off with his tee. He quietly tests out his voice, trying to hum Smoke on the Water, but it's like puberty all over again. If his voice isn't breaking, it's tossing in inflictions on every odd syllable. Oh yes, Smoke on the Water suddenly sounds like Bohemian Rhapsody, and that just doesn't fly.

He checks their med-kit for some lozenges, but the closest thing to _that _is a pair of spearmint edible mints. He shrugs and chows down a pair before heading back to bed.

Even when they were kids, Sam was never a tosser-and-turner. In total contrary to his brother, Sam would fall asleep in one position, and for the most part, stay that way the whole night as he slept. But, that was also the first sign of a sick-Sammy. The ruffled blankets and tossed pillows.

Dean nabs the cough syrup from his stand and shakes Sam's shoulder, "_SsmmmHE...?_" he grunt, wincing when the sound comes out louder than he hoped or expected.

The comforter moves before Sam turns back, "... W... What's wrong?" Sam asks, yawning tiredly. "What time is it?"

Dean holds up his first three fingers, fists his hand. He then holds up five fingers then ends up by holding his middle finger and thumb together. _It's 3.58 pm dude. _

Sam sighs, but quickly starts pounding his chest when he starts coughing. It takes a few seconds for the coughing to stop and by then, Sam's red-faced and _visibly _feverish. He takes in a deep breath but glances over to Dean when he notices Dean's weary smile. He snatches the bottle from his brother and grins before taking a swig. _Thanks, dude._

Two pats on the shoulder and Dean's sitting back on his own bed.

"I'll get us some take-out... " Sam says and grabs his own phone, just in time to stop the alarm from going off. "Uhh... well... it's IS four now..."

Dean smiles from his end, grabbing an old lore book from the floor and starts searching through the indexes.

Sam orders two pizzas with 'all that is meaty' on it and sends the delivery team to the Motel. And, unfortunately, the delivery truck _is _on-time and they have to pay the whole amount – like usual. Sam frowns awkwardly when the delivery guy gives him the stink-eye when the guy notices the pages posted the walls and lore books on the floor.

"_Thank you,_" Sam snaps irritably, trying not to slam the door shut in the guy's –_Fred's- _face... and failing.

Dean snorts with a grin, only to have the snort come out more like a muffled squeak.

Sam chuckles at the awkward sound and wobbles the pizza, "Thick crust with _all _the meaty toppings you could dream of?" Sam said with a quirked eyebrow. He drops the pizza on Dean's bed as he walks by, dropping the other on the table next to the TV. He grabs his laptop and heads back to bed.

The older Winchester's frowning though, tapping the box and showing just how _wonderful _the smell is by the look on his face. _Aren't you going to eat? It smells hhheeaaavvveennnllyyy..._

"A-aa-AAGGHHTTTXX!" Sam rubs his nose and sniffs, "I'm fine... but I think I'm just going to finish the research before calling it a day."

Dean eyes his baby brother suspiciously. _Oh, this ISN'T over, Sammy-boy. _.. but, as soon as he bites into the pizza, he's lost in his own world of food-adoration.

Geekboy grimaces at his brother's expression before sitting down on his own bed, opening his laptop lid and typing away. "Alright... here we go..." Sam mutters, peering at the text on his screen, "Kobalts... uh..."

"NAHt eVHIL is igghht?" Dean manages to mumble before taking another bite, some mozzarella sticking to his chin.

"Alright, I'm glad you can talk again... but if you keep on using your voice, you're going to lose it for _more _than just one week... kay?" Sam snaps, shaking his head irritably. "But yeah... you're right, Kobalt's aren't _officially _evil..."

Dean nods with a self-satisfied smile and manages to catch the trail of mozzarella.

"But, looks like if you neglect or taunt them... they _love _to pay you back... with some good old fashioned revenge," Sam says and absently rubs at his eyes, "... and that's it..."

His brother's eye twitches and Dean's got a finger-gun to his head. _How do you kill them?_

Sam scans the page again before shrugging and rubbing the back of his neck,"... uh... nada... "

Dean drops the slice of heavenly pizza back into the box and licks his fingers. He reaches over to the book he had in his hand before _lunch, _and taps the one line. "They aRH sPHI- " and silence followed.

"... Dean?"

The older Winchester opens his mouth to test out his voice again, but nothing, not even a squeak sounded. _Shit._

"Aww... _seriously?_" Sam grunts, rolling his eyes, "_Seriously?_"

At least Dean didn't lose the Winchester-death-glare too.

"Great... " Sam mumbles, his sarcasm a little more prominent than usual.

It doesn't take long for Dean to throw his pillow of Sam. And Sam to throw it back. The older to smile and fling it right at Sam's head... then with Sam to feint a submission before catapulting it right back. Then both of them grabbing their own pillows and deciding to Three-Hundred each other into submission. Dean dealing some choice side-swipes, and Sam coming in with a barrage of spongy-jabs.

"What the hell is wrong with you? This isn't _my fault!_" Sam growls, beating the pillow against Dean's head again.

Dean tackles Sam, both of them landing on the mattress in a wrestling match. A couple times of rolling around, but neither of them seemed to win before Dean's phone started ringing.

Sam growls dangerously when Dean shoves him off the mattress, but Dean reached over to his phone and checked the caller ID. _Bobby. Of course. _He huffed and held out his hand towards Sam. _Well? I can't talk to him... Literally. Can't. _

"Hi, Bobby," Sam answers the phone, "What's up?"

The older brother stands up, yanks his clothes straight and walks over to his bed, flopping down.

"Yeah... I know it's Dean's phone... yeah, he's totally lost his voice..." Sam says, chuckles, then pauses for a moment before continuing, "... we're there right now...We think it's a Kobalt..."

A few minutes later Sam hangs up, "Bahhh-" he starts to say, but pauses, turning his head away in the last second to sneeze. He rubs his nose absently off on his sleeve, scowling when he remembers all the times when he was little and he did that, and Dean yelled at him to "knock it off, Sammy!" and then when Dean always went and fetched him some Kleenex. Always the big brother. He starts up again, "Bobby's sent a couple other hunters our way... "

Dean's confused expression said all that Dean couldn't. _Oh really... now why would Bobby do something like that? Hmm?_

"Alright, alright... I called Bobby when we first came here... " Sam relented with a roll of his eyes, "It's one thing to hunt when you're sick... it's another when you can't actually yell for nine-one-one when you need it, you know?"

A tired sigh was all that came as a retort.

"Sorry, man, but you _know _how strict Dad is about this stuff," Sam says with a non-chalant shake of the head.

A quirked eyebrow. _Oh yeah, and since when do you listen to Dad? _

"Just eat your pizza..." Sam says and rubs his nose, he sniffs mid-yawn, causing Dean to suddenly burst out in a fit of silent chortling. And that sent Sam into the giggles, "Dude... I totally owned you in the fight!"

The 'adorable' brother mouths a '_You wish, bitch!_'. But it doesn't bother them though. It actually felt good to get all the frustration of the past few days out of their systems. It actually felt really peaceful for the first time in weeks. Even months... Ever since they started looking for their Dad.

Sam gets up from his spot, heading over to the bathroom, grabbing the packet of aspirin. He detours to the mini-fridge and grabs two cold ones. He pops the tops of the beer and shakes out two pairs of aspirin for himself and Dean, swallowing his two with a swig of beer.

Not exactly healthy... but, it WAS Winchester-healthy.

He finally heads back to the Dean and holds out the aspirin and beer combo, "Here you go, dude," Sam says and smiles innocently, "At least the squeak is gone..."

A roll of the eyes_. Good to know, Sherlock..._

_._

_._

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><p><em><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>_

_**Please drop me a pm or review if you liked it!**_


	7. Eye of the Storm

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its related characters or themes.

AN1: This little plot bunny came to me while I had my own bout of Laryngitis this week – which sucked. BUT, I had to try it out!

AN2_:_ A big shout-out to smalld1171 , Rosetta Brunestud , LeighAnnWallace , 27jaredjensen for their reviews :) I've really appreciate everybody's fantabulicious (is that even a word? :D ) reviews, story alerts and favourites! They've really inspired me to get this chapter out faster and make it longer! W00t!

AN3: This takes place a little while after 1x15 'The Benders'

Sorry it took so long to update! I hope this'll be worth the wait!

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><p>.<p>

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**_Eye of the Storm_**

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"So… Kobalt, huh?"

Dean nods, pointing to the book he was holding, _Got all the intel in here, dude._

"We haven't hunted one like this in… geez… how long?" Sam keeps muttering, almost as if he's trying to fill the void of silence by himself.

Absently Dean's hand flies up in the air, him holding his thumb and ring finger together. _Seven years. _

"Seriously?" Sam says, an eyebrow quirking. "Don't I feel _that_ old…"

Dean scoffs but suddenly snaps his fingers, _Got something._

"_Yeah?" _Sam walks over, peering over Dean's shoulder to get a look at the book.

_Kobalts can be killed by stabbing either the heart or head with pure iron knife. _

"OH, that's good… we got one in the trunk," Sam says, a smile finally appearing on his face.

Dean frowns and points to a paragraph above. _Kobalts move with abnormal speed, can lift objects several times their size and mass with ease. Lore depict that they are stronger and faster than Banshees._

"Shit… that sucks…" Sam says, rubbing a hand over his face, "… well… look, we have to find this thing first… at least the area of hits were marked by her."

Dean's head tilted slightly. _Who?_

"Seriously?" Sam practically snaps, shaking his head, "The firing range instructor? Hello?"

A waggle of the eyebrows came as a reply. _Oh… I totally knew that._

"Alright, so… we have…" Sam starts and pulls out a marker, joining the markers together, "A line going across like this…". He squinted and drew the map closer, "all of them were near the outskirts of town, near the forest… ugh… like last time.

It was Sam's plan now. It came out of the melon of the youngest.

Sometimes, and this is something Dean won't admit, it freaks Dean out. Not because it's Sam. Not because Dean was the one who used to change his diapers when he was a baby. Not because Sam used to cry whenever he was scared or hurt. Not because he was the one who usually left the scheming up to Dean or John. It's because Sam's plan is… well… too much like a plan _he _would've come up with. Too Dean-like to be Sam.

And it's freaking Dean out. Not a lot. Just a tad.

"So… we leave this out tonight… and we stake it out…" Sam says, sprinkling some sugar over the cookies.

Dean quirks an eyebrow, _Are you sure this'll work? _Not because he doesn't believe it, he just wants to be some kind of voice-of-logic in this plan.

"Of course! Apparently they have a sweet-tooth, so this'll work like a charm," Sam answers with a grin, "Or… at least, it should."

At the edge of the forest, at the edge of town, and, somehow on the edge of their sanity… they light a couple of candles near the plate of sugar-coated treats and burn the summoning sigils into the ground.

"That should do it," Sam says finally, tossing Dean's lighter back to him. He abruptly sneezes and rubs at nose, "… _excuse me."_

Dean jerks his thumb up to the trees close to the summoning circle and Sam nods in agreement.

The condition of Dean's tagging along was: stay hidden. Stay safe. And, considering Sam's a worry-wart, that didn't sound like anything less than a concession.

Sam might still be haggling with a cold, but that was actually manageable –especially since Dean's pumped him full of decongestant and pain-killers before they left the motel. But, with a brother who can't call for help when he needs it… yeah, Dean was the one who was 'in danger' (at least, according to Sam, that is.).

And that's how, two hours later, the pair of them are still up in a couple of pine trees. It was itchy and uncomfortable. The branches weren't particularly thick and each time they moved another branch would crack. Which sucked, since it meant they were stuck in a wedgie-like position for the better part of those two hours.

And, it was fine, up until the mist started settling in and the candles started sputtering.

Sam's seriously considering the validity of his plan –and he convinces himself that he wants to get out of there not just because of the fact that a pine branch was currently practically impaling his right kidney. It also doesn't help that all this mist was making his nose run even more. He grimaces as he drags his sleeve under his nose before looking over to Dean.

Dean, who still had the AK braced against his shoulder, seemed to be in the same type of predicament. He wasn't shuffling around, but Sam knows him well enough to spot the uncomfortable expression on his face a mile away.

Sam lowers the sight of his rifle with a sigh. He was pretty sure the Kobalts would've shown up by now if they were going to come at all tonight. It was well past twelve.

The youngest Winchester whistles to Dean and motions for them to climb down.

They both touchdown and make their way towards the circle, "Well… that was just a spectacular waste of time," Sam snaps, breaking away to sneeze abruptly.

Dean scoffs silently and slings the AK over his shoulder. _No kidding._ He pats Sam on the shoulder and absently rubs the back of the kid's neck. _I think we need to get you back to bed, dude._

Sam goes to pick up the plate, but pauses. He starts tracking with his eyes. "… we're missing five… " Sam mutters, counting the number of choc chips again.

It's then when the candles suddenly blow out, their smoke trailing into the air. The grassland's midnight gloom ten-folded and it felt like they were standing in complete darkness. The mist rose up in the fields, becoming tangible like a thick soup.

Both brothers crouch down, slinging their weapons to the ready.

"Dean, get going!" Sam commands, scanning the area.

But, Dean was never _that _good at following orders. He simply covers Sam's flank and sweeps his AK over the field.

The area seems to quieten in a deathly stillness. In the distance they can hear sun-beetles beating their wings, desperate to fill the cone of silence.

But, as much as Sam would like to convince himself, it wasn't wind that was rustling the grass like that.

The gust sweeps past Dean's line of vision and he fires two rounds. The echoes reverberate through the mist, sounding twice as loud as normal.

"Damnit, they're fast!" Sam growls, trying to track the gust as it flies across his field of vision.

But, Dean's reply doesn't come. Not as a reassuring hand-on-the-shoulder, not as a nod, not even a rustle of his boots. Because… Dean's not there anymore.

"Dean? Dean! DEAN!" Sam yells, feeling the panic grip his throat. He swivels around, left, right. The mist lolls in waves as Sam swirls around, "DEAN!"

_When did they take him?_

_How long ago?_

_Where'll they take him?_

_How did it happen so fast?_

Sam tries to illuminate the ground with his cellphone. The ground was wet and soft, owing to the mist and Colorado rains. Good for short-term tracking. Bad for long term.

He spots Dean's footprints in the soil. Those from here he was crouched, those from where he had came from, those from where he was being dragged off to.

_How come he didn't hear him?_

Sam wants to hit his head against the wall. Dean's voice was completely gone. Between tracking those damned Kobalts and trying to figure out where his plan had gone wrong, he blocked out everything else.

With one smooth motion, Sam's up and shuffling along the path. He has to keep randomly hitting the keypad of his cell to keep the backlight on, and it's the first time he's ever regretted setting his phone to battery-save options.

He tracks the trail for twenty yards before the silence suddenly breaks with the sound of gun fire.

Two shots.

Sam grins internally. _Thanks for_ _letting me know where you are, big bro. _

He sprints off towards the sound, slinging the rifle over his shoulder to free up his hands.

The creatures were dragging Dean further into the grassland, not the forest, and Sam's not sure that _that's _an improvement.

In a forest, tracks are easier to follow. In a grassland… unless it's marshy, it's not. _Smart buggers._

Three more shots rips through the silence, and Sam pushes even harder. His legs are burning by the time he spots Dean on the horizon.

Dean's clawing at the ground with one hand, trying to get some leverage to hold unto. With the other he's slashing away with the iron knife. The AK long gone.

Sam brakes, falling into a crouch as he slings over the rifle.

The two Kobalts are both clawing at Dean's boots, trying to drag him further, but failing. They're not even two foot tall, but look like sinewy gremlins. They even got friggen tiny boots and hats on for Batman's sake!

Sam fires the first shot and he hits the one Kobalt on Dean's right. Direct hit in the leg.

Dean throws himself forwards, staking the damned thing in the heart. But, the second Kobalt on his left suddenly leaps and friggen' attaches itself to Dean's friggen' face.

"SHIT!" Sam's voice resounds through the quarry, "Dean! Freeze!"

And Dean, two seconds away from stabbing the creature –and inadvertently himself- freezes. The Kobalt starts pawing at Dean's face, like he's trying tear his face right off.

It takes Sam longer than usual to track the creature until it's on the bullseye, and Sam has to force the rifle into his shoulder to stop his hands from shaking the rifle –and the sight- so damn much. With a final round, Sam pops a round off in the things stomach, missing Dean's face by an inch.

The Kobalt fails about for a second, screeching with a high-pitched squeal before Dean finally stabs it right in the eye. He twists the knife and waits until the writhing stops.

"Are you alright?" Sam screams, finally lowering the rifle.

The older Winchester rubs at the claw-marks, the tiny scratches bleeding profusely. He stands up and throws Sam a thumbs-up. _I'm super._

Sam trudges over, his legs feeling like jelly. He slips twice on the ground but manages to talk the stretch without actually tripping.

When he finally reaches Dean, he kinda expects a pat on the back. Or a hug. But, he also has to accept the fact that the slap behind the head wasn't a bad thing.

Dean's pretty pissed off within the gratefulness. _Are you crazy! You could've killed me!_

But, they both know that Dean had taught Sam well and that Sam was a pretty good shot. So, Dean'll forget the times when Sam actually misses his targets quite badly. At least this time Sam was a good shot –or, at least, didn't get Dean shot.

When they head back to the Impala that night, and Sam's sneezing fervently, Dean throws Sam an encouraging smile and pats him on the back to get him to feel better. _You did well tonight, Sam. Good shootin'. _

So, Sam kinda neglects to tell Dean that the first shot he fired was supposed to be a warning shot.

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><p><em>WOOT! That's it! I'm out :DD<em>

_Hope you enjoyed it ;))_

_Please drop me a review or pm if you liked it! I truly appreciate 'em :D_


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